


the world's most cursed field trip

by Anonymityrocks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Gen, Gratuitous Descriptions of Flash Thompson's Comeuppance at the Hands of the Avengers, Humor, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker's Field Trip to Stark Industries, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymityrocks/pseuds/Anonymityrocks
Summary: Peter Parker's decathlon team go on a field trip to SI. Cue Flash attempting to humiliate him, the Avengers' efforts to protect (read: embarrass) their spiderling, and the main character himself wanting to sink into the floor the whole time.(feat. MJ and the infamous Crisis Notebook)
Relationships: Academic Decathlon Team (Spider-Man: Homecoming) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 164
Kudos: 1166





	1. well this is gonna be interesting

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever! I recently fell down a rabbit hole of the whole Stark Industries trip tag and felt it absolutely necessary to combine all my favorite bits. 
> 
> Comments/kudos would mean the world to me! <3

Peter Parker was having a Pretty Good Day.

He’d somehow not absolutely failed the chemistry test he’d completely forgotten about, Flash had mostly left him alone for some reason, and he’d nearly made it all the way through the AcaDec practice without one of his teammates referencing something that could connect him to Spider-man (it sounds absurd, but it was actually a frequent occurrence) or any other sort of undesirable incident. And Peter was the KING of undesirable incidents.

Of course, as someone burdened by the infamous Parker Luck™, he should have known that all this wouldn’t last.

Peter glanced at the clock for the third time in the space of a minute. As much as he enjoyed Academic Decathlon, he was itching to leave. Yesterday, he’d been in the middle of a breakthrough in his web fluid before Tony kicked him out, declaring that “homework is important” and “stay in school, kids.” The second Mr. Harrington’s alarm rang, signaling the end of practice, Peter began to hurriedly cram all his stuff into his backpack. Mr. Harrington cut him off, however, saying, “Hold on, guys! I’ve got an announcement!”

Reluctantly, Peter sat back down as his teacher continued to speak. “Because you all did so well at nationals, our team has been invited for a tour of Stark Tower! This is an incredible opportunity and I hope that…”

Excited muttering broke out amongst the teenagers. Someone was clapping. There were two or three outbursts of cheering, but the only thought occupying Peter’s mind was this: Shit. Shit shit shi—

He glanced frantically at Ned, who hiss-whispered “Dude, what are you going to do?” though he seemed much more amused than worried. “Only you, man.” Peter sighed. Curse his Parker Luck.

Flash seemed to take the absence of a teacher’s voice as a personal invitation to speak. There was a smirk on his face as he shot Peter a deadly look. “I bet someone’s scared that he’s finally getting called out on his lies, aren’t you, Penis?” he sneered. “Everyone will finally see that you’re just a loser trying to impress your loser friends. And when they do, guess who’ll be the first to—”

“Mr. Thompson.” Mr. Harrington finally butted in. (Seriously, what was that guy waiting for, a goddamn invitation?) “That’s enough. And Mr. Parker, I’d like you to stay behind a minute.”

Fantastic.

“Thanks for coming, everyone, and make sure to grab a permission slip before you leave. The trip is in two weeks and you have to turn in the slip by next Monday. Everything else is covered in the forms.”

Peter remained seated as his classmates around him got up to leave. He could hear snatches of their conversations as they headed for the door.

“No way, dude!”

“This is so fuckin’ sick, man.”

“Do you think we’ll see any Avengers?”

“...Spiderman?”

Of course that last one was Flash. Despite all the bullying, Peter still took some gratification from the fact that his tormentor was practically in love with his alter ego. He wondered what would happen if his identity was ever revealed. Would Flash’s opinion of Peter Parker change, or his opinion of Spider-man? Probably the latter.

As the last students slipped out the door, Mr. Harrington took a seat in the chair directly opposite Peter. He had on his “disappointment” face, though Peter couldn’t think of a reason why he would be the recipient of such an expression. He didn’t have much time to be confused, though, because a few moments later, the teacher began to speak.

“Now Peter, you’re a brilliant kid. You wouldn’t be on this team if you weren’t. But everyone, regardless of how smart they are, makes stupid decisions. We’ve all told a little white lie about ourselves to be popular, and I know it’s not easy for you to deal with Flash’s teasing, but those things always come back to haunt us.”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Okay, so Flash didn’t believe him about his internship, and he gave him hell for it, but his teacher? He’d always assumed that Flash was the only one stupid enough to think he was lying, but apparently the other boy had the entire school convinced. Including his favorite teacher.

“Mr. Harrington, if this is about my internship, I promise you I’m telling the truth. We filled out all the paperwork, I have all the necessary proof…” Peter trailed off.

The teacher only sighed. “I understand that you’ve dug yourself in a bit of a mess and you don’t know how to get out of it. It’s okay.”

“It’s not a lie! My internship is real!” Peter insisted, outraged.

“Peter, if you are going to continue to lie about it, fine. Just please, please don’t mention it while we’re on the trip, okay? Your actions represent the school, and this trip is a great honor. If someone were to act out and, say, talk about how they intern there and claim to know Tony Stark personally, our chances of ever being invited again would go out the window. Best foot forward, right?”

“Right, but—”

“No ‘buts,’ Mr. Parker. And while we’re here, I think I should also warn you that you have a habit of disappearing on our field trips. That can’t happen at SI. The place is like a fortress with all the security and everything. We can’t have some kid wandering around. If you leave the group over the course of the trip, Mr. Parker, I assure you that there will be consequences, and I’m not talking about just detention. I mean suspension.”

He gulped nervously. “Okay, thanks Mr. Harrington. See you tomorrow.”

“You’re a good kid, Peter.” Mr. Harrington smiled at him. It made Peter feel sick. His favorite teacher thought he was a liar.

He grabbed one of the bright pink pieces of paper, the bold words “ALL DAY TRIP TO STARK INDUSTRIES” at the top of the page laughing at him. Peter groaned and shoved it into his pocket.

As always, Happy was outside waiting for him. Despite the man’s outward appearance, Peter knew that Happy had a soft spot for him, and his presence always cheered him up after a day of dealing with Flash. “Hey Happy,” he called, sliding into the backseat. He began to ramble about nothing in particular, briefly mentioning the “really old” movie that he and the other Avengers were going to watch as part of Team Movie Night (which had been Tony’s idea) before seamlessly transitioning into an intense one-sided debate about the greatest Vine of all time. Whenever Peter wasn’t looking at him, Happy allowed his face to slip into something that could have been called a smile.

Half an hour later, Happy pulled up in front of SI and Peter hopped out. He said a cheerful “Thanks, Happy!” before turning to face the Tower. He pulled out the folded permission slip, looked up at the massive stylized A on the building in front of him, and groaned quietly.

Peter gathered up his resolve and marched towards the door.

Time to kick some Avengers ass.


	2. featuring a nosy AI, team dinner, and tony stark’s nicknames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more exposition! (feat. domestic avengers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I’d known that this many complete strangers would read something I wrote, I probably would have bothered to at least proofread it first lmao
> 
> The AU I’m working with here is basically CW happened (but they all made up) and post-Homecoming btw, everything after that didn’t happen

It’s a bit awkward trying to be dramatic and angry when the entirety of your adoptive family lives on the 90th (well technically the 90th-93rd) floor of the Tower and you spend the duration of the elevator ride alone with the security system/virtual butler that keeps trying to start up a conversation.

Peter was far too polite to ever dream of telling someone to shut up, even if that “someone” was a sentient and highly advanced AI named after a certain day of the week. Which was why he was presently leaning against the wall of the elevator saying “F.R.I.D.A.Y., I’m _fine_ ,” while a disbelieving Irish accent asked him every imaginable question about his day.

The elevator slowed, doors opening. Peter rushed out to see Steve, Bucky, Nat, and Clint lounging on the sofa. They did not acknowledge his presence, each of them involved in their own tasks. Of the four, Clint was the only one actually paying attention to the TV; Natasha was casually yet concentratedly sharpening her knives as Steve and Bucky occupied each other with activities such as cuddling and giggling in each others’ ears. Peter’s enhanced hearing allowed him to pick up on what they were whispering, and he couldn’t help but snicker at the two ninety-year-olds who had the approximate maturity level of kindergarteners.

Hearing the noise, the three ex-assassins + Steve turned to look at him. “Hey kid,” Bucky said while Natasha told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to pause the TV. Peter suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be mad, but he’d already given up on that. Instead, he held up the paper and tiredly asked, “Who invited my AcaDec team to take a tour of the Tower?” Likely not believing the absurdity that was Peter’s life, Clint leaped up and snatched the paper from his grasp. He skimmed the page before his eyes returned to the title declaring the fabulous destination to the world, stared at that for a couple seconds, and promptly collapsed on the floor laughing.

There were tears in Clint’s eyes as he wheezed, “What _is_ your life, Parker?” Seeing as Clint was going to be unable to answer any of his questions, Peter glanced at the remaining three, who were also struggling to contain their amusement at Peter’s latest situation.

“Where’s Tony?” he asked, his words more of a sigh than a sentence. Two super-soldiers and an assassin couldn’t give him a better answer than a shrug. “Well, I have homework, so I’m gonna...go,” he said, gesturing to the corridor that led to his room. “And don’t tell the others about this!” He tried to say it in a way that sounded threatening and serious, but considering the only reaction he got was a short laugh from Natasha as he left the common area, it was unlikely his words had had any effect.

He could still hear Clint’s snickering as his bedroom door shut.

\-- -- --

In retrospect, Peter has no idea why he’d thought a couple of _assassins_ could keep a secret. Team dinner had been going fine. Bucky, self-appointed official chef of the Avengers, had made spaghetti carbonara, which happened to be Peter’s favorite Bucky-cooked meal. But once again, he should’ve known that the good was merely the universe paying him back in advance in exchange for all the shit that was about to go down.

“So Peter,” Wanda began, and the next part of the sentence was out of her mouth before the man in question had time to register what she was saying and kindly ask her to shut the h*ck up, “where are you going for your field trip?”

Peter stared at her in disbelief. “Who _told_ you?” He looked to Clint, who had an ear-to-ear grin on his face. “BARTON!” Before he knew it, Peter was on the ceiling above the table, about to drop down on top of the archer, who looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. (Peter found that insulting. He’d been practicing his superhero-glare in the mirror and had thought it looked quite intimidating.)

“Underoos! No killing Legolas...at the dinner table,” another voice broke in. Tony’s expression was entirely too self-satisfied as he added, “and for the record, this whole field trip? My idea.” He winked. “Now have a seat.”

“Mr. Stark, whyyy—”

“Oh, so we’re back to Mr. Stark now? Damn, kid, that’s cold.”

Peter sighed. (He was doing a lot of that today.) “Tony. Why would you do this to me.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “That Flash kid you’re always talking about? He could benefit from being put in his place, a little public humiliation, y’know. The works. And hey, if it makes you feel better, it wasn’t all me. Pepper signed off on it.”

Honestly, it was as if they were all trying to antagonize Peter at this point.

It was working.

\-- -- --

The day it was due, Peter very reluctantly turned in his permission slip. He made Aunt May sign it, because even though Tony was technically one of his legal guardians, he doubted Mr. Harrington would take kindly to Tony Stark’s signature on a form allowing Peter to visit a building the billionaire owned. Really, what _is_ his life?

The days leading up to the trip were unremarkable, filled with a growing sense of nervous tension for Peter and mounting glee for Flash, who continued to taunt him about the Trip, as Peter was beginning to refer to it. Admittedly, Flash was desperately in need of some new material. He was beginning to sound a bit like a broken record with his repeating remarks of “finally being exposed” and “puny Penis Parker” and “you know they don’t even take high school interns, right? I would know, I’ve applied multiple times” (the last one stated in a tone so smug Peter almost laughed).

In truth, Peter was absolutely terrified, but not for the reasons Flash thought. He knew that the Avengers would hold absolutely nothing back in order to embarrass him. They cared about him, but they were also very sadistic people who loved nothing more than to see him squirm. In truth, he was even a tad worried about Flash, because there’s only so much one can do to prevent the murder of a teenage boy at the hands of a bunch of public figures. Especially a bunch of very overprotective public figures with superpowers.

Yeah, Peter was pretty sure he wasn’t going to survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you have suggestions or feedback! I'm kind of making this up as I go along so if you have an idea it might get added 
> 
> :)


	3. Shouldn’t the exposition be over by now? (but they're on a bus so it's fine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something finally happens, and yet at the same time nothing does

Peter hadn’t slept well. That wasn’t surprising, really. He’d been up all night, too preoccupied with fantasies of his coming humiliation at the hands of both Flash and the Avengers to be able to rest. On sleepless nights, he would often turn on the light in his bedroom and work on some Spider-man project or another, but he knew Aunt May was having a difficult week and he didn’t want to risk waking her. Better to bear the burden of insomnia alone.

Even though it was technically a stay-at-the-tower week (he alternated back and forth between living there and at May’s apartment), he’d spent the night with May because he hadn’t seen the point of having to wake up early to drive all the way from SI to school only to go right back. And as he finally drifted off in the wee hours of the morning, his last waking thought had been of how much future-Peter would appreciate the extra sleep.

 _“Peter!”_ a voice hissed.

He jolted back to attention. He hadn’t even noticed he’d started to lose focus.

“Mr. Harrington’s about to start talking,” Ned told him quietly, gesturing towards the teacher standing at the front. Peter absently nodded his thanks and scanned his surroundings. He and Ned were seated near the front of the bus, and while Peter wanted nothing more than to sneak off to his room and hide the second they got out, Ned looked as excited as three people put together in spite of the fact that he was a regular guest at the tower. In the seat across from them sat MJ, who was leaning against the side of the bus with her legs stretched out across the seat, which Peter definitely knew wasn’t allowed. She drummed the tips of her fingers against the cover of the crisis notebook, the familiar green cover sending a shiver of dread down Peter’s back.

 _Dear God—or Thor, or whoever—please tell me she brought that to draw Flash, not me,_ Peter pleaded internally.

Peter’s theory that MJ was psychic was proven when she looked away from Mr. Harrington to stare straight into his soul. “You losers really think I believe Flash?” she snorted, then gave him her trademark amused half-smile. “On the contrary, there is not a doubt in my mind that you’re telling the truth and what can I say? I need some new drawing material.”

He was about to reply with a joking retort about detention-related crises getting old, but MJ’s remark had been just barely loud enough to be caught by the practiced ear of Mr. Harrington, who abruptly stopped talking to shoot the two of them a silencing glare.

Peter wanted to have a word with whatever primordial being thought it was funny to have one Flash Thompson sit behind him on the bus. Less than five seconds after Mr. Harrington resumed talking about proper field trip etiquette (as if they were preschoolers and not juniors), Peter heard Flash mutter, “What, Penis, finally realized there’s no getting out of this? I’m going to expose your lies, Parker. In fact, I hope we meet every single Avenger so I can witness their confusion when you keep claiming to know ‘em!”

“Flash, _please_ just shut up.” Peter pleaded.

“Actually, Penis, I don’t think I will. You’re gonna—”

“Mr. Parker.” Mr. Harrington interjected coldly. “Please remember our conversation from two weeks ago.” He went back to talking about...something. Peter couldn’t be bothered to pay attention anymore. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl himself out the window and Spider-man away, secret identity be damned. For a brief moment, Peter entertained a fantasy of running away and joining a secret colony in the forests of Brazil, before deciding that he was not cut out for the jungle life. Plus, he liked the Internet kind of vines, not the plant ones. Instead of making badly thought-out and overly dramatic spontaneous life decisions, he pulled out his StarkPhone (a model so new it wasn’t even in stores yet) and discovered not one but two messages from Tony.

_From: T. Stark - 9:18 AM_

Hey kid, almost here? We’re waiting ;)

_From: T. Stark - 9:19 AM_

[evilpatrickmeme.jpg]

_From: P. Parker - 9:32 AM_

Oh god 

_From: P. Parker - 9:32 AM_

If you embarrass me i will call u mr stark for a whole month

_From: P. Parker - 9:33 AM_

We’re outside btw

_From: T. Stark - 9:35 AM_

Cmon kid, be reasonable

Having given up on trying to convince his mentor, Peter returned his phone to his pocket just as Mr. Harrington announced, “Well, I think that’s it. Any questions?”

Considering the sheer length of time their teacher had spent on instructions, it was sensible that not a single hand went up. Whether that was because he’d been extremely thorough or because no one wanted to listen to Mr. Harrington talk any longer was up for debate. Besides, Peter was fairly certain they would only be faced with more lectures upon entering the building.

The group filed out of the bus in a rather chaotic manner. Many of the students stopped immediately after hopping off, frozen in awe of the structure before them. Peter could understand their expressions, remembering his amazement the first time he saw the view from the top floor, but it was causing a fairly large pile-up. The team moved together, amoeba-like, everyone tripping over each other in their haste to get to the massive entrance doors. Mr. Dell and Mr. Harrington already seemed exasperated by the excited teens, though they seemed to share some of their students’ eagerness. They did teach at a STEM school, after all. 

MJ, Peter, and Ned stayed back from the bulk of the pandemonium, talking amongst themselves in a (relatively) calmer, quieter tone of voice. Ned’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Peter, dare he say it, found himself getting a little excited for the tour. Since he primarily visited only the upper floors and labs, he’d never seen much of what they were going to be touring: the “museum” side of SI. 

Even MJ, who’d never expressed much interest in superheroes at all, appeared interested. “Pepper Potts is an icon,” she said with a shrug. “And Black Widow. They’re badass women in a male-dominated profession.”

That comment made Peter wonder if superhero-ing was in fact a profession. Was he employed? Did he get medical benefits? Should he be receiving payment? What was the retirement plan like? Was Tony technically his boss?

Peter was so caught up in his existential crisis that he didn’t even notice they were now inside the building. Oh God. This is where his life ends.

“In case I die of humiliation,” he warned his friends, “my favorite flowers are camellias.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it? Leave a comment below! <3
> 
> :)


	4. finally, something fucking happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the exposition is over! yay!

As the final few students trickled into the lobby, a young man Peter identified as an intern approached them with a wave. “Hi guys, my name is David and I intern here at SI! I’ll be your tour guide today, and I’m here to answer any questions you might have. In a moment, we’re going to go thr—yes?”

Flash, in true Flash form, already had his hand up. “Excuse me sir, I was just wondering what the minimum age was for interns.”

“Well,” David answered, confused, “individuals applying for the position of intern are required to be of legal age. Were you thinking of applying?”

Flash‘s shit-eating grin was so massive he could barely speak. “No, just curious, thanks.”

The response only further confused David, for whom Peter was beginning to feel quite sorry. The intern awkwardly cleared his throat and began to direct the group towards security. “Now, if you could just follow me…”

As he walked, Peter could feel the eyes of his classmates watching his every move. Even Mr. Harrington was looking at him every few seconds, as if he was worried Peter would go blow up the entire tower or something of similar effect. His cheeks burned and he regretted not demanding Tony cancel whatever this was supposed to be. (He would never actually do that, of course; the rest of the team had been overjoyed upon finding out and he didn’t have it in him to single-handedly crush their souls. But it was nice to dream.)

As they passed the reception desk, Peter saw a white-haired man with aviator sunglasses arguing loudly with the people behind the counter. “Ma’am, you don’t understand! Everything that Tony Stark has become is because of me! You have to let me in!”

_Weirdo._

Flash had somehow managed to sneak around the perimeter of the small herd and weasel in right next to Peter. “You hear that, Penis?” he taunted. “You know, if you admitted to lying right now, I might even go easy on you.”

“Flash, for both your sake and mine, _please_ shut the hell up.” His words had no effect on the bully, who opened his mouth to retort, but by that point they had stopped walking and Peter looked to David, pouring all his attention into the other intern.

David pulled a dozen or so badges from a black pouch at his hip. “These are your badges for the day. SI has a strict policy against re-printing so please, for the love of God, don’t lose it. Fair warning: they’re programmed to only work for the day, so once you leave, your badge will be more or less useless. You can keep it if you want.” He winked, and a chatter went up through the teens at the idea. A couple of the girls swooned (for David, not the badges).

“You may have noticed that your badges are white. There are seven main levels of security clearance here at the Tower. White is the lowest level, for visitors. It’s actually pretty uncommon because few people are permitted to visit, much less school groups. You guys are lucky.

“Anyway, it progresses in rainbow order from there: purple for the media, blue for the actual business side of SI, green for most interns, yellow for paid scientists, as well as a few high-level interns, orange for Avengers who don’t permanently reside at the tower and the most important scientists, red for resident Avengers, and black for Mr. Stark, Mr. Banner, Ms. Potts, and one classified individual. Black is all-access, everything you could ever dream of and more.” David sighed almost wistfully. “I, however, am the bearer of a humble green,” he held up the badge around his neck, “and it is obviously a huge honor to have. There’s only about 250 interns in this entire building, so we’re all sitting in pretty coveted seats. But enough about security. When I call your name, come get your badges.” 

He began to rattle off the names, each student claiming their corresponding badge with a gleeful smile, but as he reached the end of the list, Flash (god _damnit_ Flash) raised his hand. “Sir, I think you forgot someone.” He pointed at Peter, who gave David a timid wave.

“Ah, Mr. Parker? This is your class?” Peter nodded, face burning (much like the communal kitchen the last time someone thought it was a good idea to let Steve cook dinner). “I’ve heard great things about you. You’ve brought your own badge, I presume?”

Peter didn’t need a spidey-sense to be able to tell that his teammates were staring at him in shock. Flash had already uttered a furious “Peni—“ by the time Peter answered the intern’s question with a quick “yeah.”

David, totally oblivious, replied, “Okay, just checking. I’ll go through first to show you how to do it, but basically all you have to do is hold the front of your badge up to the scanner and walk through the arch.” He knocked on the huge white wall behind him. The only opening was a 15-foot wide, 20-foot tall metal arch that would look right at home in the palace of a king. He performed the action he’d described and stepped to the other side. 

As he passed under the archway, F.R.I.D.A.Y. called out, “Miller, David. Level green. Intern level III. Welcome back.”

Everyone jumped (even Ned, for some reason), with the exception of David, Peter, and MJ, because MJ is a) psychic and b) just mysterious like that.

David laughed at their fright in a way that made Peter envious. _How can anyone be so calm when my world is falling apart before my eyes? This is so unfair asdjknfeknla_ (Yes, he actually spelled that out in his thoughts. Don’t judge him.)

“Don’t worry, that’s just F.R.I.D.A.Y., the AI security system. Nothing gets past her.” David smiled and waved at one of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s cameras.

“Hello, David,” came the response. “Might I suggest you stop the dawdling and lead these children through security?”

All around the lobby, jaws dropped. David just laughed. “Someone’s feeling snarky today. Okay kids, you heard her. Off you go.”

Peter stayed back as his classmates proceeded one at a time. He’d hoped that going last would alleviate some of the attention on him, that they would all be too awed by the extravagance of what lay on the other side of the arch. Unfortunately for him, his classmates seemed to interpret his holding back as reluctance and nervousness, and apparently the potential to see one of their classmate’s dignity absolutely destroyed was enough to warrant waiting a few seconds to examine the scenery.

Which ultimately meant that their attention was undividedly fixed on him as he scanned his badge.

“Parker, Peter. Level black. Part-time resident. Intern Level X. Classified. Welcome back.”

And just when Peter thought it couldn’t get any worse, that this was the hill he was going to die on...it got worse.

In a much less robotic voice, volume turned so loud Peter _knew_ Tony had to have done something with the levels, F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced to the room (and probably everyone in a five-mile radius—Jesus, Tony):

“Hello again, Petey-pie. Boss and the others have been notified of your arrival. Ms. Potts would like to wish you a pleasant field trip, and Mr. Banner respectfully asks that if you have time today, could you please grace him with your presence in his lab. Boss says that he will be back no later than one o’clock, and Mr. Barnes told me to tell you (and I quote) ‘it’s [your] turn to choose dinner. The kid always forgets to tell me and then gets all grumpy when we skip him. It’s kind of cute, though.’ (end quotation) Have a nice day, Peter. Say hi to Karen for me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback? Ideas? The occasional death threat? Leave it all in the comments below!
> 
> :)


	5. part four part two: electric boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash is an asshole, Mr. Harrington is in a state of disbelief, and Peter wants to disappear.
> 
> So really, what's new?

When even the AI is out to get you, you know there’s no one left for you to trust.

Except, of course, for Ned, who allowed Peter to collapse into his arms and gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

If his friends’ jaws had hit the floor upon hearing his clearance level, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s monologue had caused them to fall so fast that they punched a hole in the face of the planet and were now plummeting towards the Earth’s core (they being the jaws). David too looked starstruck, as if he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be bowing and referring to Peter as “Your Majesty” right now.

Ned muttered dreamily, “Dude, the Winter Soldier called you _cute.”_

“Ned, you’ve met him. You’re over for dinner, like, all the time.”

“Yeah, but he thinks you’re _cute.”_

Peter didn’t know how to argue that one.

Flash, as could’ve been predicted, was outraged. Peter reluctantly pulled away from the safety of his best friend’s arms to see the other boy giving him a “you are so dead” sneer. 

“Lemme see that, Parker,” he demanded, grabbing for the badge that Peter was already nonchalantly returning to the pocket of his sweatshirt. “It’s not even a good fake, and that’s what makes it so sad. You’re so desperate for attention, Penis. Didn’t you hear what the guide said? Only four people have that clearance, and you sure as hell aren’t one of them.” Ned and Peter only glared at Flash, while a commotion raged amongst their classmates. MJ busied herself immortalizing Flash’s incredulous rage in the form of a pencil sketch.

David rushed forward to stop the confrontation. (Curse those teachers for leaving the 26-year-old to do their jobs for them.) Noticing that the lanyard of Peter’s badge was hanging out of his pocket, Flash lunged and snatched it away. Turning to David, he said, “Peni—Peter’s badge is fake! How’d you do it? Did you get Leeds to hack the AI? How much did you have to pay the intern to pretend to know who you are?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Miller, Mr. Thompson,” Mr. Harrington, the king of waiting until the last minute to butt in, interjected. He gave Flash a long, stern look, which was met with an innocent smile from the boy who was still fucking holding Peter’s badge—

He couldn’t even punch Flash, because superstrength + lack of emotional control vs. a normal teenage boy were not good odds, and Peter didn’t feel that getting arrested for second-degree muder was something that would improve his day.

Mr. Harrington interrupted his daydreams for the nth time today. “Mr. Parker, I would like a word with you in private. Mr. Miller, feel free to get started without us.”

David nodded, though there was a deep frown on his face. “Okay guys, sorry about that. Let’s get going! First, we’re going to head to the Avengers hall, which is pretty much a museum of old suits and tech. Did you know that this tower is the sixth largest building in NYC? It was sold by…”

Though Flash’s back was facing Pete as the tour group wandered away, the asshole had positioned his hand in such a way that it was easy to tell what he was doing: fiddling with Peter’s badge. The glossy black finish was a stark contrast to Flash’s white sweatshirt, and every so often it would catch the light in a way that showed all the fingerprints on its smooth surface. Peter grit his teeth. _Why did I let him walk away with it?_

As soon as the students were out of sight, Mr. Harrington turned to Peter. “Peter, I don’t know how you’ve done this, but you have absolutely gone too far with this practical joke of yours. It was funny at first, but hacking into one of the biggest corporations in the world is under no circumstances acceptable. I shouldn’t even have to tell you that. I’m disappointed, Peter. This is more than enough for serious suspension.”

Peter froze, horrified. “No, sir, I swear to y—”

“Peter!” Mr. Harrington’s voice was sharp. “I know you’ve gone down a little bit of a dark path recently, but I know there’s still a good kid in there somewhere. I keep letting you off the hook because of that, but if there’s another incident, I _will_ report it to Principal Morita, regardless of how much I don’t want to. Do you understand me?”

In his defense, Peter was too scared of what his teacher was saying to think about what it actually meant. If he’d had his head on properly, he could’ve had F.R.I.D.A.Y. call Pepper down to sort this mess out. He could have dragged Mr. Harrington up to his lab and given him a lengthy explanation of each of his projects (minus the confidential stuff). He could have even told him each of the Avengers’ favorite Disney movies, but instead, he nodded, slack-jawed and wanting to break down in tears.

Today had gone from jokingly-bad to straight-up pure unadulterated awful.

_#Parkerluck, am I right?_

As Mr. Harrington turned and started walking away, Peter quickly whispered “Hey Karen, where’s my class?” into his StarkPhone. Following her near-silent directions (perks of having enhanced hearing), he led the two of them back to the group.

Mr. Harrington meandered over to Mr. Dell, who watched the students explore the exhibit while trying not to look too much like an overeager fanboy himself. Peter observed them exchanging a few words, almost certainly about his apparent delinquency.

Ned was the first one to notice him. “What did he say?” he asked, wide-eyed. “Dude, I’m so sorry about Flash, he’s a complete asshole and I tried to get your badge back but he sicced Mr. Dell on me.”

“It’s fine, Ned,” Peter reassured him. It was totally, absolutely, most decidedly _not_ fine, but he didn’t want to seem worried. If Mr. Harrington didn’t believe him, he’d just have to figure out a way to fix the situation himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is far from my best work, but you know what? It ultimately advances the plot, so it's fine. The next part will be better, I promise.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> :)


	6. the exciting adventure of clint-in-the-vents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its ya boy, hawkeye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a joke from the Beatles movie "Help!", in case you were wondering
> 
> (you weren't)

Peter’s ambiguous response only served to increase Ned’s curiosity “So what happened?” Ned repeated.

“He just threatened to suspend me again,” Peter said with a dejected shrug.

Ned snorted. “‘Just.’” And then, in a more upbeat tone: “Oh! Did you know you have an exhibit?”

“I do?” Peter exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Ned enthused. “It was really cool. Somehow Tony Stark managed to get his hands on your first suit, and it’s all cleaned up with a bunch of pictures of you doing...Spidey stuff.” Peter winced. Ned was talking a bit too loud for his taste, considering it was meant to be a secret and all. “By the way dude, you’re freaking Spider-man, you can’t be afraid of spiders!” Seeing Peter’s confused stare, he added, “All the exhibits have a list of fun facts about the superheroes. For example, did you know that Black Widow’s favorite ice cream flavor is mint chip? Oh, by the way, I wanna show you something.”

As Ned pushed him towards the ice cream exhibit, Peter halfheartedly mumbled “you would be scared of spiders too if you got bit by one and ended up with superpowers,” but apparently the conversation had already progressed past that. “Wha—?”

Ned pointed to the “Fun Facts” plaque resting on the floor of the exhibit. There, for all passerby to see, was fact #3, which read:  _ Iron Man’s favorite superhero is Spider-man. _

Peter was having an emotional roller coaster of a day, though it had mostly been less-than-positive emotions. Now, he felt his eyes start to tear up a bit.  _ He was Tony’s favorite superhero _ . His childhood idol/mentor/father figure thought that, in a world of superheroes,  _ Peter was the best. _

Naturally, Flash was the one to destroy his Heroic Emotional Sequence™. “What, Parker, are you crying ‘cause you know you’ll never meet Iron Man? Serves you right for thinking you’re better than all of us. In fact, I—”

There was a creak in the vents. Flash didn’t notice it, or if he did, he didn’t care, because he continued talking. Peter, however, tuned out Flash’s chattering to focus on the vents. He tilted his head up. For a few seconds, there was only silence, but then came a muffled “Shit.”

_ Why do bad things happen to good people? _

Flash, the bastard, continued to ramble while Peter weighed his options. He could ignore the vent-goer and momentarily revel in Flash having a heart attack, or he could get back at Clint for trying to impress his friends—and ruin his social life. (Not that he had one to begin with.)

Releasing a long-suffering sigh, he stared directly into the opening of the ceiling and called, “I can hear you, Barton.”

Peter could tell that Flash was on the verge of changing horses midstream to unleash a string of comments regarding Peter’s mental acuity, but in a turn of events that was both fortunate and unfortunate, he was cut off by his own very non-masculine shriek as the vent cover popped open and a leather-clad and somewhat dusty Clint Barton hit the floor.

Clint was scowling, likely because his dramatic entrance had been ruined. Peter smiled innocently, but then they both remembered why Clint was there and their expressions swapped. “Oh, hey Pete,” he said nonchalantly, climbing to his feet. “Ned.” He nodded in greeting, though there was still too much dust all over his body for him to look cool and mysterious. “And you are…?”

_ Here it comes. My life is over. Is it too late to reconsider Brazil? _

Flash spluttered, his inner Avengers fanboy winning out over the suave, trying-to-be classy exterior. “Uh...Fl-Flash Thompson. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“And you as well.” Clint smiled, though Peter recognized it as being the one he used in interviews and PR videos. This one was even colder, however. Clint’s eyes were murderous; if you’d covered the bottom half of his face, you wouldn’t know he was smiling at all. Peter knew he’d overheard Flash. “Peter’s told us all a lot about you.”

Flash was dumbfounded. Astonished. Staggered. Flabbergasted. Bewildered. Et cetera. But also suicidal, it would seem, considering he looked Clint Barton straight in the eyes and practically shouted “You actually  _ know  _ him? How—! Wha—! How do  _ you  _ know Pen—I mean, Peter?”

Yeah, Clint definitely caught that one. His eyes hardened even further, and his smile turned sinister. It was his evil mastermind, beginning-of-a-prank-war, “you’ve just signed your own death certificate” smirk. Peter always thought it made him look like the Joker.

Speaking of Peter, how was he doing right now? Not well, that’s for sure. He’d been here for a whopping twenty minutes, and this was an all-day field trip. He couldn’t bear to think of how the Avengers were going to fill all that time torturing him.

Clint looked about ready to give Flash a lengthy (and probably classified) speech regarding the nature and significance of Peter’s internship, but Flash had been quite loud in his claims against Peter and the class, who had previously been spread out among the museum, were now clumped together in groups of two and three, nervously whispering things like “Is that Hawkeye?” and “Wait, is Peter getting yelled at by an Avenger? Was he actually lying?” There was also a lot of very obvious pointing in their direction.

“Why Peter here,” Clint said, ignoring Peter’s frantic shake of the head and wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder, “is a  _ most important  _ intern here at the tower. You could even call him Tony’s protégé!” He gave a fake laugh, all the while narrowing his eyes. “I’d thought you’d have known that. Doesn’t Peter have to miss practice for your team once a week? He would’ve used his badge to get in here, right?” These were all questions Clint knew the answer to, of course. “Hey, where is your badge, kid?” (Flash was hurriedly trying to conceal it in his pocket, and failing.) Clint raised an eyebrow suspiciously. The name “Hawkeye” wasn’t for nothing. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Pete—”

GOD FUCKING DAMNIT, HARRINGTON. “I’m sorry sir, is he bothering you?” the aforementioned teacher asked politely. “He’s been acting up all day, and I assure you he  _ will  _ be punished for this.”

Oh boy. Barton looked ready to brutally murder both Flash and Mr. Harrington and Fortnite dance on top of their corpses. He feigned innocence. “Who, Peter? Don’t worry about it, he’s my favorite. ‘Sides, I was on my way out. But if you could kindly get your  _ other  _ students to respect each other, that would be  _ lovely _ .” He jumped up and pulled himself back into the vent, making sure to “accidentally” kick Flash in the face as he did so. “Remember to text Bucky your dinner request!”

Peter snorted. “Screw you, bird-man.”

A laugh echoed through the vents. “It’s only getting worse from here, Pete.”

Mr. Harrington’s face whitened significantly. As for Flash, that kid really just never learned. “Okay, Penis, how many dicks did you have to suck to get him to pretend to know you? You’re a little…” he remembered his teacher was listening and shut up.

“Mr. Thompson, please give Peter his badge back,” Mr. Harrington demanded, Clint’s words clearly having had their desired effect.

“Come on, Mr. Harrington! You can’t seriously believe him!” Flash insisted, but he was shut down by the teacher. “Fine,” he snapped, shoving the plastic card into Peter’s hands. “If you think you’ve gotten away with this, Parker, you’re even stupider than I thought.”

Karen’s gentle voice cut through the silent tension. “Peter, you have several new messages on the group chat ‘the Furry Squad.’”

And sure enough:

  
  


**_The Furry Squad - Today, 9:50 AM_ **

_ C. Barton - 9:50 AM _

I’m on my way ;)

_ C. Barton - 9:54 AM _

THIS FLASH BASTARD IS WORSE THAN WE THOUGHT

_ C. Barton - 9:54 AM _

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE GET MURDER LEGALIZED IN THE NEXT TEN SECONDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have the time, please comment!
> 
> :)


	7. Concerning Furries (and other serious matters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a most excellent group chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a bitch to edit lmao I tried to upload it to AO3 and all the spaces disappeared so it was just one giant paragraph
> 
> plus I kept accidentally reloading the page and undoing everything 😭 I swear to God it took me half an hour

_**The Furry Squad - Today, 9:57 AM** _

_N. Romanoff - 9:57 AM_

What did that little piece of shit do

_C. Barton - 9:58 AM_

HE STOLE PETERS BADGE AND WAS CALLING HIM NAMES

_C. Barton - 9:58 AM_

AND THE TEACHERS WERE RIGHT THERE

_C. Barton - 9:58 AM_

NOT DOING ANYTHING

_N. Romanoff - 9:58 AM_

...

_N. Romanoff - 9:59 AM_

SOMEONE GET TONY ON THE LINE

_P. Parker - 10:00 AM_

Noooooo

_P. Parker - 10:00 AM_

Nice assassins

_P. Parker - 10:00 AM_

Calm assassins

_P. Parker - 10:00 AM_

Murder is NOT ALLOWED, remember?

_B. Banner - 10:00 AM_

Peter, aren’t you supposed to be paying attention?

_P. Parker - 10:00 AM_

...I snuck off

_P. Parker - 10:01 AM_

I’m hiding in the bathroom

_C. Barton - 10:01 AM_

HAHAHA

_N. Romanoff - 10:01 AM_

Why. just why

_B. Banner - 10:01 AM_

Kid, you’re a genius, but I really thought you’d have learned to stop doing that by now

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:02 AM_

whEN will you LEARN that your ACTIONS have CONSEQUENCES

_P. Parker - 10:02 AM_

Hey, why do you get a special name :(

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:03 AM_

Im the heir to the throne of the richest country in the world

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:04 AM_

Plus i am in fact

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:04 AM_

S marterthanyou

_P. Parker - 10:04 AM_

[sadpepememe.jpeg]

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:05 AM_

Elmo Vine | youtube.com

_P. Parker - 10:05 AM_

Big mood

\-- -- --

_P. Parker - 10:08 AM_

Anyway

_P. Parker - 10:08 AM_

I need you all to promise me something

_N. Romanoff - 10:10_

Which is what

_C. Barton - 10:10 AM_

Sounds suspicious

_L. Oki - 10:10 AM_

I make no promises

_P. Parker - 10:11 AM_

Omg Mr. Loki!!!! !!!!!!

_P. Parker - 10:11 AM_

Hiiiiiiiiii :))))))

_L. Oki - 10:11 AM_

Hello small spider

_P. Parker - 10:11 AM_

uwu

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:11 AM_

no. you promised

_P. Parker - 10:12 AM_

mwahAHAHAHAHAHA

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:12_

AM THIS WAS MEANT TO BE AN UWU FREE SPACE

_P. Parker - 10:13 AM_

uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:13 AM_

NOOOOO

_S. Marterthanyou - 10:13 AM_

WHYYYYYYY

_L. Oki - 10:14 AM_

What is this use you speak of?

_L. Oki - 10:14 AM_

Use

_L. Oki - 10:14 AM_

Emu

_L. Oki - 10:14 AM_

U W U

_L. Oki - 10:15 AM_

Blast this foolish Midgardian mind-reader

_L. Oki - 10:15 AM_

He is clearly incapable

_P. Parker - 10:15 AM_

Mr. Loki...do you mean Autocorrect?

_L. Oki - 10:16 AM_

His name matters not. He is a disgrace and an annoyance to boot.

_P. Parker - 10:16 AM_

okay mr loki

\-- -- --

_P. Parker - 10:19 AM_

Well i gotta go

_P. Parker - 10:19 AM_

Farewell, my brethren

_S. Wilson - 10:20 AM_

Kid, no one was even texting

_P. Parker - 10:20 AM_

Btw, the only reason i started texting you all was to tell you to PLEASE leave me alone

_N. Romanoff - 10:20 AM_

Mmm...no

_P. Parker - 10:21 AM_

Please????

_C. Barton - 10:21 AM_

If you wanted us not to embarrass you…

_C. Barton - 10:21 AM_

You shouldn’t have said anything

_C. Barton - 10:21 AM_

And I call dibs on murdering the flash kid

_P. Parker - 10:22 AM_

That’s literally illegal

_C. Barton - 10:22 AM_

SI has good lawyers ;)

_B. Banner - 10:22 AM_

Peter, what happened to going back to your class?

_P. Parker - 10:23 AM_

Rip

_P. Parker - 10:23 AM_

Okay im going now

_P. Parker - 10:23 AM_

Bye

_C. Barton - 10:23 AM_

Catch ya later, Pete ;)

_P. Parker - 10:24 AM_

@God: what did I do to deserve this

\-- -- --

_C. Barton - 10:32 AM_

So who’s up next

_N. Romanoff - 10:32 AM_

You text a lot on this chat considering you’re not even a true member

_C. Barton - 10:32 AM_

[betrayal.gif]

_C. Barton - 10:33 AM_

Hey!

_C. Barton - 10:33 AM_

Peter says I’m an honorary member

_C. Barton - 10:33 AM_

Anyway, they’re going to the intern labs next

_B. Banner - 10:33 AM_

How do you even know that?

_C. Barton - 10:34 AM_

I am a man of the vents. I know everything.

_S. Lang - 10:35 AM_

Ooohhh pick me pick me

_S. Lang - 10:35 AM_

I can be there in 10

_B. Banner - 10:36 AM_

Wait, you’re visiting?

_S. Lang - 10:36 AM_

I will be in about two minutes

_S. Lang - 10:36 AM_

What can I say, anything for my fellow bug lord

_S. Lang - 10:36 AM_

Hey Nat, wanna come with?

_S. Lang - 10 37 AM_

#insecttrio

_N. Romanoff - 10:37 AM_

I don’t know what that was but please never do it again

_N. Romanoff - 10:38 AM_

and yes

_N. Romanoff - 10:38 AM_

definitely

\-- -- --

_C. Barton - 10:45 AM_

I know the conversation is over, but insect trio < bird boys

_C. Barton - 10:46 AM_

@Sam

_S. Wilson - 10:49 AM_

Oh no

_S. Wilson - 10:49 AM_

You’re not dragging me into this, Barton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the things I was expecting to give me writer's block...it sure as heck wasn't this
> 
> My eternal gratitude to everyone who's commented, left kudos, or simply read this literary piece of shit <3
> 
> :)


	8. being the story of a smol snek, internships, and general pandemonium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shit happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this in a blind panic last night when I should have been sleeping, apologies if there are spelling errors in the second half
> 
> I don't know why this part is twice as long as any of the other ones, I was really tired okay
> 
> On another note, today was my first day of in-person classes so that's pretty cool

Peter managed to sneak back to the Avengers museum a split-second before David called out, “Okay guys, gather round, gather round!” Within a few moments, the intern was surrounded by a group of teenagers, all of whom looked reluctant to leave the exhibit. “Since this tour has been approved by Tony Stark himself, you all will be seeing a lot more than most of the tour groups that come through here.” 

At that, the disappointed faces of his classmates brightened. Peter only groaned internally. Tony must really care about this scheme of his if he was willing to show all Peter’s friends his confidential stuff. “Of course,” David continued, “there will be no pictures from here on unless I or another person of authority gives you explicit permission to do so. But if any of you are feeling rebellious, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is able to hack and delete the contents of your phone if you so much as open the camera app. Please also note that since you were all sent NDAs, Tony Stark won’t hesitate to sue you for all you’re worth if you share anything you see here!” David grinned maniacally at the uneasy shuffling throughout the group. “On that happy note, we’re going to the intern floors!”

That cheered them right up, of course. They piled into the elevator, and though it was hard for Peter to feel like he _wasn’t_ currently heading to his doom, he reminded himself that the Avengers almost never visited the intern levels, with the exception of Tony, of course. Who was conveniently elsewhere at the moment. Okay. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“It’s 10:28 right now, so you’ll have about an hour and a half to explore before our Q&A with some of SI’s top interns. Once we get out, you guys are free to explore any of the five levels, there are signs by all the elevators with what’s on what floor. If you get lost, ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. Just remember to be respectful of the interns, as they’re all very busy, stressed, caffeine-fueled and definitely won’t appreciate you harassing them if they don’t have time to talk.”

With impeccable timing, the elevator doors opened, the accompanying uproar from the students seeming like something from the depths of high school coming-of-age-movie hell. “Enough chit chat!” David announced, “Go explore stuff!”

Cue the peppy rock music: madness (in the form of about a dozen youths) had descended upon the intern levels.

They were currently on the robotics and programming floor, so the space was laid out in a way that resembled an office, except each “cubicle” was at least four times bigger than normal, individually lit, and boldly decorated to reflect the taste of the person working there. The dividers were short enough to allow the clear separation of projects without impeding social interactions, and they appeared to be clustered based on similar projects. Peter could see his teammates starting to fan out, a few of them already deep in an animated conversation with the interns.

At a loss as to what he should be doing, Peter followed Ned and MJ, who were practically sprinting across the place in sheer wonder. Even MJ, normally so stoic, was incapable of disguising the excitement in her smile.

“Hey Peter!” he heard a female voice call. Peter looked up to see two interns rushing towards him. Michael and Miriam, or as Peter preferred to refer to them, the M&Ms. They were both a couple of years older than him and two of SI’s top robotics interns. Coincidentally, they were also his best (non-Avengers) friends at the tower, and Peter was therefore responsible for being the middle ground during their frequent science-related debates.

“So,” Miriam began, and Peter could already tell they were in the middle of a big one, “we were having a bit of a friendly competition, and this old lug here—” she gestured to Michael, who immediately started ranting about how he was _the same age as her_ — “says that his code is better than mine,” she said, shoving an ultra-thin laptop into his arms. “And since you’re obviously the expert in this field…”

“I would also like to point out that I finished mine exactly one minute and thirty-seven seconds before she did,” Michael added. Miriam whacked him upside the head, albeit gently.

“Shut up, dork.”

Peter skimmed both sets of code. “What is this even for?”

“Nothing,” Miriam said, “we just bet on who could make the most efficient code the quickest.”

“Well, uh, Michael, you could remove this whole section,” Peter said, pointing out a long block of unnecessary code. “But other than that it’s pretty good. Miriam, you’re the winner, because I’m still mad that someone,” he glared at Michael, “ate half of my candy supply last time you were in my lab. I invite you iNtO mY hOmE and this is what I get!” He threw a couple of intentional voice cracks in there for added effect.

Michael grimaced. “I thought you hadn’t noticed,” he whined. “Wait,” he said, finally noticing MJ and Ned, who had been staring at Peter and the two interns for the duration of the exchange, “aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“School trip.”

“Really,” he snorted. “Who’s your guide?”

“Some guy named David,” Peter said, “I don’t know him, though.”

Miriam jokingly elbowed the other half of everyone’s favorite chocolate candy. “Well _he’s_ certainly quite the looker, isn’t he, _Mikey?”_ The man in question blushed.

“So…” Michael mumbled, clearing his throat in an unsuccessful attempt to sound nonchalant, “can I meet your friends?” Peter didn’t know why he even bothered asking, considering Michael was already waving MJ and Ned over. “So you’re the infamous Ned and MJ. Ever been to the tower?”

Ned nodded so hard Peter thought his head might fall off if he wasn’t careful. MJ, on the other hand, gave a near-imperceptible shake of the head which could have been perceived as standoffish if Michael didn’t know that she was just Like That. (Peter talks about MJ a _lot_ , okay?)

“Well in that case,” Miriam said, and her American accent thickened to the point it was practically choking her words on their way out of her mouth, “Bienvenidos a la casa de _Science_ , bitch!”

Peter and Michael gasped in unison. “Miss, there are children present!” Peter stage-whispered in a scandalized voice. Michael’s easygoing smile had disappeared, however, and Peter followed his line of sight to see two people who were making quite a scene.

“C’mon!” Flash was saying. “You’re not _that_ busy, just show me what you’re doing! Your whole job here is just to make Stark Industries look good for people like me. Don’t you know who my father is?” The person he was talking to (or rather, ordering about) was a female intern who looked like she was running on about three hours of sleep and twice her weight in Red Bull. For the most part she was ignoring him—a brave feat, considering Flash was all up in her face—but her coworkers had started to take notice.

“...And that’s Flash,” Peter sighed, running over. “Flash, can’t you just ask someone else? Can’t you see she’s a) busy and b) obviously doesn’t want to talk to you?” The intern smiled gratefully at him. Flash scowled and stomped off.

There was a sort of swooshing noise, and the accompanying sound of Scott Lang saying “Hey, Pete.” Peter swore and jumped about a foot and a half into the air. (Hey, at least he didn’t land on the ceiling this time!) He turned to his left and sure enough, occupying a previously-empty patch of air was a suited-up Ant-Man. “Is that Flash?” Scott asked casually, as if the entire room wasn’t staring at him. Peter nodded mournfully. “Cool. Back in a...Flash.” Scott shot finger-guns at a dismayed Peter as he shrunk down to ant size.

Tiny-Scott sprinted to where Flash was standing in the middle of the floor, likely surveying which interns would be most fun to harass. In a split-second, a fully-sized Ant-Man, helmet and all, was standing less than a foot in front of Flash. The boy yelped (the sight of the Ant-Man helmet, especially when unexpected, can be quite a shock), before he realized who he was looking at. “M—Mr. Lang! I’m a big fan, it’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’m Flash. Thompson.”

Scott’s helmet disappeared from his face, courtesy of nanotechnology. “Ah yes, _Flash,”_ he said with great distaste. “You’re the one who’s been picking on Peter. I must say, I was expecting you to be...more.” Scott patted Flash’s shoulder in mock sympathy. “Anyhoo, I was just stopping by to check on Peter. Which reminds me! If you continue to bully my spi—Peter, you’ll...Actually, my advice is to just _stop._ Kid’s got some _very_ scary friends. Here comes one of ‘em now!”

Indeed, Natasha Romanoff was presently marching across the space, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Without even slowing down, she swung one arm around Peter’s shoulder (the boy had been attempting to hide inside one of the intern cubicles) and dragged him along with her towards Flash. 

“This is Peter. Peter is very special to me and if you keep hurting him in any way, shape, or form, one day you might wake up and have significantly fewer limbs attached to your body,” Natasha informed Flash, who paled more with every word. 

Peter blushed furiously. “Nat…” he mumbled. “What are you doing here?” 

Natasha clucked her tongue. “What happened to Auntie Nat, маленький паук? I came down here to give you these—“ she dropped several Widow’s Bites into Peter’s palm— “because some _idiot_ shot one of their electricity bomb arrows into my stash and now they’re not working.”

Peter took “some idiot” to mean Clint Barton, but it was just a guess. “‘Kay, I should be able to fix them by tonight, but I was planning on prototyping a new version this weekend so it doesn’t really matter.” He slipped them into his pocket.

“Well, gotta run,” said Nat. “Places to go, things to see, people to stab…” she winked at Flash, letting him know just how much she would enjoy dishing out a little bodily harm at his expense. 

“Same,” Scott added. “Bug boy out!” He shrank and disappeared.

Flash looked like he too would very much enjoy being able to turn small and suddenly vanish. He was not a superhero, though, and had to resort to simply speed-walking away from Peter and cowering behind one of the many clusters of chattering interns. Unsure of what he himself should be doing, Peter spotted Miriam and Michael off to the side of the labs, and he meandered over there, enjoying the sound of things being created. It was certainly nice to listen to; his own lab was massive and amazing, everything he could have dreamed of and a thousand times more, but it also had a tendency to be uncomfortably silent. Maybe he could ask Tony if he could work down here more often.

“Oh, hey Pete!” Miriam called. “Come to see how the big kids do science?” Before Peter could even think of a response, she somewhat frantically added, “I’m just kidding, you’re a hundred times smarter than me, please don’t send the Black Widow to attack me.” She sounded mildly hysterical. Peter laughed.

“So what are you guys working on?”

“Oh, it’s great, we’ve been working with some of the others on this super hi-tech Roomba that can also do about anything you can think of. For example...it has this function called Squid Mode, which…” She went into a lengthy and detailed explanation, with frequent comments from Michael, of some of the Roomba’s key features. Most of these seemed to have originated as jokes that ended up coming to fruition because someone was bored at 3AM. For example, the robot could send a Morse Code message to any device within a five-mile radius, but due to a “glitch,” it was only capable of doing this if the message consisted solely of the lyrics of the 2009 hit “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga.

Peter’s Spidey-senses tingled. He looked around, though his eyes didn’t land on anything suspicious until he noticed a snake sitting on a table. That was odd. It was a brown snake (a ball python, perhaps?) with darker markings accented by flecks of gold here and there. Despite registering the irregularity of the situation, Peter didn’t think much of the fact that there was a random snake on a desk. “Hey, is this someone’s snake?” he asked loudly. 

No one else seemed to find this particularly strange, either. There were mumbles of “no” or “nah” or the like, and that was when Peter made the executive decision to scoop the creature into his arms and cradle it like a baby. This was his snake now. He could take care of it, right? Snakes ate…???

Food. They ate food.

Peter could give a snake food.

He was unaware of how much time had passed while he was holding his new child and singing lullabies, but it was time to go. Peter walked back to the elevator, where Ned and MJ seemed similarly unsurprised by Peter’s new pet. 

“That your snake?” MJ asked. “Cool.”

“What’s its name?” This question came from Ned.

Peter thought for a second, before responding, “His name is Mr. Danger Noodle. Mr. Noodle for short.”

The tour group, having gathered together again, squeezed into the elevator and went to lunch. Not even Mr. Harrington batted an eye at the sight of Mr. Noodle coiled around Peter’s arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the writing gets so insane at the end, it turns out it's hard to just explain away a random snake. Please bear with me.
> 
> :)


	9. Lunch is had (eventually)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter nine, featuring lots of unnecessary details that I couldn't bring myself to edit out so it's now 1800 words!

With a fair amount of shuffling, mild shoving, chair creaking, and muttered expressions of discontentment, each member of the Academic Decathlon team found a seat in a quiet corner of the intern floor where chairs had been arranged in a small semicircle around three twenty-something interns that stood there. Each of them had a green badge on a lanyard around their neck, and Peter was once again made very aware of how much his own badge stuck out against the white guest passes of his classmates.

Once everyone had settled down, the tallest intern addressed the group. “Hey guys! I’m Harry, and this is Liam and Angela. We’re going to be answering some of your questions today. The three of us together have over twelve years of experience working at SI, so I hope you’ll feel we’re adequately informed to shed some light on happenings here at Stark Industries.” 

Peter knew the three of them quite well; they’d helped him get comfortable working at the Tower after Tony offered him a real internship instead of the “internship” that was just a cover for Spider-man. Plus, he was something of a friendly neighborhood cryptid amongst the other interns, who knew him as Peter, the tired but elusive teenager who could fix just about any tech issue imaginable but who only emerged from the depths of his cave once in a blue moon.

His classmates began to fire off questions, which the interns were taking in turns to answer.

“Why did you want to intern at Stark Industries?”

“What’s the most confidential thing you’ve ever worked on?” (This was answered with a “If I told you, it wouldn’t be confidential, would it?” and a wink.)

“Have you ever met any of the Avengers?” (I once got Black Widow to sign my limited edition coffee mug, but that’s about it.”)

“Does Peter Parker  _ really _ intern here?”

_ The lion, the witch, and the aUDACITY OF THIS BITCH. _ Peter thought heatedly, because he was very angry and also a child of the meme so why not combine the two?

“Peter  _ Parker? _ Y’all are Peter’s class?” Liam asked, knowing full well that it was, in fact, Peter’s class. “Well in that case, stand up, Peter! Come on over here!”

And that was how Peter ended up answering his friends’ questions about his internship. Mr. Noodle, despite having nothing to grip onto, had somehow managed to slither his way up to the top of Peter’s head, where he sat coiled in the shape of a very scaly flower crown. The end of his tail kept poking Peter in the eye, so he had to periodically tuck it behind his ear like a stray piece of hair. The whole thing was quite odd.

To Peter, it was fairly obvious who had believed him and who hadn’t. Most of the team seemed unsurprised, if a bit awed, that Peter was the one to whom they were now directing their questions. Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell looked rather chastened, though perhaps they were merely afraid that someone from SI was going to sue them within an inch of their lives for their actions. Even Flash seemed to have grudgingly accepted that Peter’d been telling the truth, though he’d never admit that to his minions. In the space of less than ten minutes, Peter felt like the four of them had answered every question there was to be asked, but his teammates were still going strong.

_ Why do all the Avengers know you? _ “I, uh, do a lot of work on their tech and stuff. I’m basically Mr. Stark’s personal intern and I also spend the night here sometimes.” (More often than “sometimes,” but whatever.) “I’m pretty sure any info beyond that is classified, so…”

_ Who’s your favorite Avenger?  _ “Iron Man.”

_ Why do you have such high clearance? _ “I live here, I guess.” 

_ How did you become an intern if you’re under eighteen? _ “Ton—Mr. Stark saw a video of one of my projects on YouTube and I guess he was impressed, considering he randomly showed up in my house one day.”

“Well guys,” Angela said as they reached the tail end of the Q&A, “that’s all we have time for today. Sorry if we didn’t get to your question, but Peter might be willing to answer them later. Not to put words in your mouth or anything, Peter,” she added worriedly.

“Yeah, no, uh, it’s fine,” Peter said awkwardly, fiddling with the end of Mr. Noodle’s tail. “As long as it’s not, y’know, confidential or anything…”

“Thank you Peter, that’s very thoughtful of you,” Mr. Harrington said kindly. Peter could definitely tell he had some more questions of his own. “Okay everyone, we’re going to have a lunch break! No, you didn’t need to bring money, it’s all paid for by Stark Industries. Mr. Miller?” David nodded and led them all to the elevators, where he pushed the button for the amenities level.

The food court was twice the size of that of any shopping mall. It seemed there was a stall for every type of food imaginable, including some that definitely sounded made up. There was even a Starbucks, though the signs read “Barstucks” and the iconic green-and-white mermaid logo had been replaced with an illustration of the Hulk in the same style.

The food was not the only attraction of the amenities floor: it was a melting pot of people visiting from all parts of the tower. A couple of research scientists played Scrabble around a table, the board barely large enough to fit the eye-wateringly long words they were putting down; others were sitting in a small circle on the floor, each clutching a copy of the same Berenstain Bears book, locked in fierce debate about the nature of the social commentary it undoubtedly contained. No fewer than thirty people were clustered around two people locked in an intense Just Dance competition; everyone was screaming their head off for one candidate or the other, though Peter couldn’t tell who they were from here. He saw a couple of his teammates run off to join the fray.

“So there are some options,” MJ said conversationally. Ned nodded; had Peter really never taken him down here before? “What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well there’s this great stall that sells food inspired by classic works of film and television!” Peter was particularly fond of their thin-crust cheese pizza, which was shaped like a sort of stretched-out rectangle made to resemble everyone’s favorite billion-year-old piece of skin (complete with edible eyes and mouth!). “I think one of the younger scientists gave him the idea, and you know Tony, he had to do it.”

Ned snorted. “Who would’ve thought  _ Tony Stark  _ would be the world’s biggest fanboy?”

They grabbed their food and sat down. Peter, of course, opted for the Cassandra pizza, MJ selected a rather dismantled looking plate of cheesecake (inspired by Friends), and Ned decided on a burger that looked suspiciously like a Krabby Patty.

“So how’s the tour been?” Peter asked, generally curious about what today might have been like if he wasn’t living in constant fear of humiliation.

“It’s great!” Ned enthused. “You never told me how many cool people you work with! There was this one guy…” he trailed off in a dreamy STEM-induced haze, then snapped back to attention. “Oh, Peter, your noodle’s escaping.”

“Wha—oh, Mr. Noodle! Don’t go wandering off like that!” Peter said seriously, having retrieved his slithery son from where the snake had been in the process of sliding off Peter’s leg onto the floor. Mr. Noodle made his snakey lil way into Peter’s hoodie pocket where he had made his home and folded his neck back over his body so that only the tip of his smol snoot poked out. “Good snek. Sweet child. Darling boy.”

His Spidey-sense only gave him a split-second to register that something was about to happen before two hands covered Peter’s eyes. “Guess who, white boy!” said a voice in a very fake American accent. This declaration was followed by a familiar groan from one (1) Wakandan king.

“Babe, we did it! You’re gonna be a father!” Peter exclaimed.

The person covering his eyes finished the Vine. “CAN’T YOU SEE I’M READING HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN WHAT DO YOU WANT!” Suddenly, Peter could see again and he turned to face Shuri and, behind her, King T’Challa. “Surprise, fool!” she practically shouted. “And hello, Peter’s friends!” Ned and MJ, who had stopped eating to witness this greeting, gave small, hasty waves. “Okay Peter, I’m only here for the weekend because Mother is making me do some  _ very important royalty business _ which means we have to cram the Peter-Shuri Seven Days of Chaos into three days. I’ve already made a plan for where we can save time, but we  _ must  _ get revenge on Barton this time around!”

“Shuri, why can’t you just—“ 

“Oh don’t give me that, brother! You’re just sad that I finally ruined your Just Dance win streak! Besides, you would be joining us if you weren’t all—“ Shuri performed a series of full-body movements that did not seem to represent T'Challa at all, but you know how siblings are. “I know you want to, bathrobe boy!”

T'Challa looked genuinely offended. “My kingly robes are made of only the finest—“ 

“Asdabgsgbkikehwgcs LiPsTiCk! In my VaLeNtInO wHiTe BaG!” Shuri screeched. Peter bent over laughing.

“I’m sorry, is he bothering you?” Flash, apparently thinking himself welcome, sauntered over. “That’s Peter, don’t worry about him, he’s constantly bragging about interning here as if he’s anything special.” It was like Peter wasn’t even there.

Shuri’s eyes narrowed. “And who the hell are you?” 

Peter could practically see Flash’s ego puffing up. “Eugene Thompson, son of Harrison Thompson and—“

“Ohh-kayy,” Shuri said. “While I do appreciate your kind words, Peter here is an accomplice of mine, and unfortunately for you, he’s told me quite a lot about you, rich kid.”

Flash was aghast. “But why Parker???” he demanded. “You could date anyone, why him? What’s Peter got that everyone else doesn’t have? He’s just a loser! You know what, ditch him and I’ll show you what a real...“

“...Aaaaand I’m afraid I am going to have to stop you right there,” Shuri interrupted, yanking Flash’s hand from her wrist, “considering Peter and I are  _ friends  _ and if you touch me again when I have not given you explicit permission to do so,  _ Eugene _ , I shall have to summon Okoye. Hashtag shots fired. Let us go, my noble steed!” she cried, hopping onto Peter’s back and digging her heels into his ribs. He took her on a high-speed piggyback ride around the room, forcing people in their path to dive for cover as he barreled forward, Shuri on his back screaming “MOVE, I’M GAY!” as loud as humanly possible.

What a time to be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to draw Mr. Noodle, but I'm very bad at drawing and it didn't work and I became very sad
> 
> On another note, I made a [Tumblr](https://pineapplepizzademon.tumblr.com/) yesterday, so if anyone cares...go wild y'all idk
> 
> :)


	10. House Tour: Bruce Banner's Lab!

Bruce Banner looked very uncomfortable as the Midtown students flooded his lab. Peter was somewhat relieved by the scientist’s obvious emotions: at the very least, it meant that there was one person in this entire godforsaken tower who wasn’t out to get him. “Hey Pete,” Bruce said, warily eyeing the other students beginning to fan out across the room. “Tony?”

“Tony.” Peter nodded in tired agreement. 

“Well, since you’re here...I need some help. You know the prosthetic tech I’m working on?” Peter nodded. “Something’s happened to it. I don’t know what, but...I’m a biochemist, not a programming whiz kid like you or Tony. I was hoping you could give me a different perspective, y’know?”

They stood in front of an airtight glass case. Immediately, Peter's eyes fell to the human arm thrashing inside it.

Well, to be fair, it wasn't an actual arm, rather a state-of-the-art (and beyond!) prosthetic designed for the greatest possible realism and efficiency. The cost...was something Bruce was still working on.

“Is this the latest prototype?” Peter asked, wide-eyed. The surface of the prosthetic arm was 100% synthesized biomaterial. It was as close to human skin as possible without being the actual thing. The inside was a vast assortment of computers, touch sensors, and nodes that, working together, would allow the arm to function as naturally as one attached to a human body. It was ridiculously complex stuff; Peter couldn’t believe how much progress Bruce had made in the space of only a few months. “It looks so real!”

Bruce sighed, scratching its neck. “Yeah, well...it worked like it, too, before this happened.” He waved his hand in the direction of the spasming, disconnected arm. “I’ve run diagnostics, but I can’t find anything wrong with it. “Got any ideas?” he asked, pulling up a hologram on the wall of the case.

Peter spent a few minutes scrolling through the seemingly-endless code. “I’m no expert,” he said, “but it looks like something’s contaminated the system. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s fatal.”

“Great,” Bruce groaned. “A complete overhaul would require starting from scratch. Lucky me.”

Peter winced. “Sorry.”

The lab's tall double doors opened with a slam. "Dr. Banner!" Thor boomed, though his tone was not unpleasant. The entirety of the decathlon team freaked out, some of them more successful than others when it came to hiding their surprise.

"Hi Thor," Bruce said mildly. "How are you?

"I am well, thank you. However, I have been unable to locate my brother of late." Well that was hardly anything new. Noticing Peter, Thor exclaimed, "Young Stark! It is good to see you again!" He "patted" Peter on the back so hard that the only thing saving Peter from being yeeted across the room were his super-spider sticking abilities.

“Oh my God, it’s Thor!”

“He’s so hot omg do you think he’ll sign my pass?”

“Did he just call Peter ‘Young Stark’?”

Thor turned around and stared at Peter’s classmates, amused. He gave Peter a quizzical look.

“We’re on a field trip,” Peter explained. “It’s where schools visit somewhere to learn about it.”

“Ah yes!” Thor practically shouted in Peter’s ears. “We had those on Asgard as well. Of course, it was mostly just me and Loki.” He paused, then remembered why he was there. “Have you seen him?”

Peter shook his head. “But guess who I  _ have _ seen!” he announced, producing Mr. Noodle from the depths of his hoodie. “This is Mr. Noodle and he is my only friend,” Peter said, completely deadpan.

Thor looked confused, and perhaps a little sad. “But Young Stark...am I not your friend as well?”

“Of course, Mr. Thor,” Peter replied. Thor pulled him in for a hug while Peter halfheartedly pounded on the left pec of Thor’s armor, sobbing, “He’s too pure! Too! Pure!”

“Mr...Mr...um, Thor?” one of Peter’s teammates said hesitantly. “Could you please sign my badge?”

Thor’s face brightened significantly. The man was like a giant Golden Retriever puppy. “Of course, friend of Peter!” Thor loved autographs, even if he didn’t quite understand what they were. 

With one hand (perhaps to show off), Thor hoisted Peter onto his shoulders, accepting the red Sharpie he had been offered. Peter wrapped his arms around Thor’s head, still murmuring “so precious, must protect” under his breath.

One by one, Thor signed his name (in Asgardian runes, with “Thor” written underneath in all caps) on hats, arms, shoes, homework, and other such items. But then Peter heard a voice that did not sound like it belonged amongst those of his classmates.

Peter surgically extracted his face from Thor’s luscious golden hair. His eyes landed on a red-and black blob which upon closer inspection turned out to be one (1) Wade Wilson, a.k.a. Deadpool.

“Wade? How did you even get in here?” Peter asked, confused.

“Honestly, Petey-pie, I’ve got no clue. This whole interaction is just the author’s feeble attempt to meet the world count requirement they’ve set for themself. Really, my existence within this chapter is meaningless at best, and we will all be disposed of the second we are no longer a useful plot point. Except for you, of course,” Wade explained to Peter, who was beginning to feel vaguely alarmed by his words. 

“Wade—” Peter began.

“Oh my God! It’s Thor!” the grown-ass man squealed. “Can you sign my limited edition Mjolnir keychain? And my mug? And my dic—tionary!” Wade had apparently noticed that he was surrounded by minors. “Stay in school kids!” he yelled as a parting statement, and sprinted towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined Bruce’s lab. 

Wade had doubtlessly intended to make a dramatic exit by hurling himself out of an 80-floors-up window, shattered glass flying all over the place, but unfortunately for him it didn’t quite happen like that.

What  _ did _ happen was that Thor, Bruce, Peter, a bunch of students, two teachers, and Mr. Noodle all got to witness Wade Winston Wilson running flat-out straight into a highly reinforced pane of glass like a bird on a summer day. There was a resonating  _ thwap _ sound and the hair-raising sound of many bones being crushed.

There was stunned silence as Wade cursed rather loudly. For the sake of keeping this story PG-13, the author has opted not to repeat that which was said.

Wade gave the class an enthusiastic thumbs up, which probably only scared them more on account of the fact that half the bones in his hand were doing things that they  _ definitely _ should not have been doing. “Don’t worry about me kiddos. I’ll just be on my way.” He began to flop across the floor towards the exit like a fish out of water.

Bruce, in spite of the gruesome display (because at least Deadpool would  _ heal _ himself, you know?), chuckled. “That glass is Hulk-proof. Vibranium coated.”

“So,” Mr. Harrington said, looking nauseous, “Where are we going next? Mr. Miller?”

Peter was the only one who could hear David’s muttered plea of “I deserve a promotion for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm switching this to updating on Friday because I can't keep up :/
> 
> please note that I have not watched any of the Thor movies, so if this is out of character...I don't care lmao
> 
> :)


	11. I’m back, bitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me?  
> Did you miss me?  
> Did you miss me?  
> Did you m

“Okay guys, this is the last stop for the day!” The entire class groaned. Mr. Harrington shushed them disapprovingly. “After that, we have the gift shop, which I _swear_ is not as lame as most gift shops you’ve been in.” Peter, who’d paid said gift shop a visit on numerous occasions, could confirm the accuracy of that statement. It was, as they say, “wild.”

Peter’s classmates giggled to each other, clearly not realizing that _everyone else could hear them_. “I heard they sell Iron Man thongs. Dare you to buy one.” Scandalized whispering ensued.

“Well…” David coughed. Peter wanted to give that man flowers for having to deal with his friends. “Where we’re going next is so high-clearance most interns have never even been on the same floor as the place. I’ve only been once, and it was under...special circumstances, to say the least. You guys are in for the treat of a lifetime.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Flash shouted jubilantly. “Doesn’t _Peter_ have all-access clearance, which means that he’s probably been there _loads_ of times?”

All eyes turned to Peter, who blushed furiously. He shrugged, nervous. Regaining some of his confidence, he snarked (is that a word?), “Flash, he hasn’t even told us where we’re going yet. Patience, grasshopper. Maybe figure out our mystery destination before you embarrass yourself more?”

Flash looked reasonably chastised.

“I was going to keep it a surprise, but we’re going to the Avengers’ group training facility,” David admitted. “Peter?” he added inquisitively.

Peter, the poor kid, had barely even registered what had been said. “Oh,” he stammered, “well, uh, yeah, I guess? I mean, I go up there a lot to help with testing tech and stuff, y’know?” Great, he was rambling.

Clearly, that hadn’t been the answer anyone was expecting. Peter didn’t know why they were even surprised, at this point.

— — —

The tour group gathered around outside the door to the training room for a few last words of wisdom before entering.

“Peter, since you’re obviously a lot more familiar with the space, would you mind answering anyone’s questions? It should be pretty self-explanatory, and there may be an Avenger or two in there, but I’m sure we’d all appreciate a more professional opinion.” David smiled kindly.

_You know those days when you’re like, “this might as well happen”?_

Peter grimaced, though halfway through he tried to turn it into something that could be described as an abstract interpretation of the everyday “smile.” 

“Um, sure. I don’t know how much use I’ll be, though, with NDAs and everything.” (He really hoped he looked apologetic as he said that.)

“Of course,” said Mr. Dell, looking totally sincere. “Thank you, Peter.”

The massive sliding doors whooshed open, revealing a tangle of people who were all Doing Things. Oh, God, were all the Avengers here? Peter thought the whole thing had to have been staged, because there was no way he randomly walked in to Clint’s dramatically (and comically) arched spine as he drew back his bow, Falcon’s wings fully extended as he swooped low to the ground, Bucky and Steve locked in an intense battle of fists and knives, Thor engulfed by an immense blue sphere of pure electric light, T’Challa practically sprinting up a wall before springing delicately through a midair kitty parkour course (did Tony seriously put cat carpet on those platforms?), four of Nat’s stun bullets fired in rapid succession, each hitting the center of their respective targets, and by golly what a long sentence that was! Peter was just glad Tony wasn’t there. That realization worried him, actually, because if Tony were here he’d at least be able to stop worrying about what he was doing because _he’d know_.

Today had happened in such a way that made Peter crave the public humiliation of his ~~father figure~~ mentor. It was just that bad.

Within moments, the room was silent. Even Scott returned to normal size. Shuri looked up from her phone, with which she had been one-handedly retweeting Avengers memes while using the other hand to shoot subsonic pulses at anyone who thought they could beat her at _anything._ Peter respected a woman who could multitask.

Steve and Bucky, being the natural leaders that they were, flashed their charming 90-year-old smiles and meandered across the massive room. Swooning could be heard. Peter was pretty sure Flash was one of them.

“Hello, Midtown!” Steve announced, his trademark cheeriness never failing to amaze Peter, who wanted to go upstairs and cry himself to sleep. “Welcome to the Avengers-slash-Stark Tower! Has everyone enjoyed the tour?”

“Yes” seemed to be the general consensus.

“Great, great,” Bucky said, clapping his hands to call their attention. “As you can probably guess, everyone’s schedules are a mess these days, so having this many of us in a room at one times is pretty rare. Since we’re here and you’re all here, Steve thought it’d be cool to let some of you see what it’s like to go up against an Avenger.”

Nat winked. “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you.”

“So who’d like to go first?”

All hands went up (except Peter’s, but that’s beside the point.)

“You there, in the green shirt,” Steve said, nodding in Cindy’s direction. She beamed. “Who’d you like to go against?”

“Oh, er, Scarlet Witch,” she responded. Wanda smiled, looking surprised at being chosen.

Bucky handed Cindy a selection of (non-sharp) throwing weapons. “It’s pretty unlikely you’ll be able to do Wanda any damage, but maybe try not to hit your classmates?” He phrased it as a question. Cindy nodded frantically.

She was on the floor in under thirty seconds, but Wanda’s face was soft as she helped the younger girl to her feet.

“Anyone else?” Bucky asked. Once again, Peter’s arm remained firmly glued to his side.

“Oh, come on Peter, don’t hide!” Nat chided. “Get over here, big boy!”

A quiet uproar could be heard as it swept through Peter’s classmates. How friendly did a person have to be to have the Black Widow address them in such a casual way?

His classmates parted like the Red Sea to allow Peter to make his way to the front. _“Naaaattttt,”_ he complained in Russian, _“They’ll find out I’m...you know.”_

Nat snorted. _“Then don’t do anything stupid, bug boy. You’re not getting out of this.”_

“Hold on, what language is that?”

“Russian, I think. My grandpa speaks it someti—“

“Wait, how does Peter know Russian?”

“Damn, MJ, you really lucked out.”

Peter ignored this new line of commentary.

_“Just get it over with,”_ Bucky advised, having joined the conversation. His grin was as devilish as Nat’s. _Of course_ Peter was born in the timeline God had abandoned. This truly was a lawless world.

Trying to rein in his body’s superhuman sticking power, Peter ducked and weaved as Nat advanced on him. He found himself falling into their usual graceful dance, more of an art form than a proper fight at this point. He could tell Nat was going easy on him; the intensity of this was nothing compared to their normal practices. _“No need to baby me,”_ he joked.

_“Gotta show those kids who’s boss,”_ Nat responded smoothly, her breathing not even the slightest bit heightened. _“Anything for my spider son.”_

_“Uwu,”_ Peter amended. Nat froze. The baton she had been using in lieu of a knife clattered to the floor. She stared at Peter in shock.

“How did you just say ‘uwu’ in real life? In _Russian_?”

Peter took advantage of the momentary distraction. In a very ungraceful motion, he leaped on top of the ex-assassin and tackled her to the floor.

A shocked silence.

Bucky, who of course had been following the entire exchange perfectly well, was laughing. Steve, on the other hand, only knew a smattering of profanities (guess who taught him those) in Russian, and calmly said “two minutes and forty-three seconds,” as if anything and everything Peter’s team thought they’d known about him hadn’t just been torn to bits.

Cheering.

Peter’s theory that Flash had muttered, “So what? She’s just a girl. I could do better” under his breath was proven correct when Nat gave the other boy a vicious smile.

“Okay, _Flash,_ how would you like to give it a go?” she asked innocently.

Flash’s chest puffed up instantly at an Avenger knowing his name. “Of course!” he replied. The pretentiousness in his voice was so apparent it was almost sickening.

Despite the fact that Nat was easily three inches taller than him with her high-heeled combat boots (seriously, _how_ did she fight in those???), Flash still managed to summon up enough dignity to be condescending. As Steve began to count down from five, signaling the start, Flash said “Just lemme know if you need me to go easy on you, okay? It’s not a problem, I—“

He did not end up finishing that sentence.

If he was to be generous, Peter would say that Flash hit the mat a solid second after Steve said “go.” But if he was being _realistic_...it was closer to half that.

Flash blushed. “I—I slipped!” he insisted. “I want to go again!”

Nat obliged, and once again, Flash’s ass thwapped against the floor within moments. Nat let him (try to) get in a couple punches before she moved against him, though, if only to further display his incompetence.

“Hey, Flash!” someone from the decathlon team called. “How does it feel to know that Peter Parker did better than you?”

Flash huffed and stormed to the back of the huddle of teenagers. 

The Avengers (read: the Peter Parker Protection Agency) exchanged satisfied smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me on November 5: oh, I’ll come back to this when all this destiel business is over hehe
> 
> Me on November 28, three weeks later: well shit
> 
> Tumblr is pineapplepizzademon if you want to send me anonymous hate (and honestly, I’d love to read it)
> 
> :)


	12. in which it ends (to the author's relief)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha bet you thought i wasn't gonna update this again!!!!!!
> 
> yes I realize it's wednesday but i don't fuckin care anymore lmao time is irrelevant anyways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you and my eternal love to anyone who has ever commented or left kudos on this thing. If it weren't for someone leaving a comment a couple of weeks ago I probably wouldn't have had the motivation to finish it at all, so if that was you and you're reading this now: MARRY ME (jk but thx ily sweetie <3)
> 
> fun fact: this is legit the only piece of writing that I've done for fun that I have EVER FINISHED. like damn. I get distracted easy. You might think I'm lying. I'm not. I Do Not finish writing. Ever. This is a momentous occasion lmao

Having successfully squeezed a dozen reluctant students, two high school teachers, a relieved intern, and one Peter Parker into the elevator, the group slowly descended towards the lobby.

The ride was filled with the quiet whispering (and some louder-than-whispering whispering) of Peter’s classmates, which he tried to tune out as much as he could until he heard someone say, “wait, why are we going up?”

Suddenly, Peter’s ears were ringing, the chaos of loud shouting doing a number on his finely-tuned spider-enhanced eardrums. “Quiet!” David shouted over the din, and relative silence returned. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., what’s going on?” he asked steadily, though Peter could tell he too was worried.

“Nothing to fear, my good man,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said smoothly. “It would seem that Boss has hijacked your ride. Peter, please do remember to breathe. I don’t think Tony would appreciate finding you passed out on the floor _again,_ ” she added with as much of a long-suffering sigh as was possible for an AI.

Peter hadn’t even noticed how much he’d tensed up. At least he wasn’t on the ceiling right now. That was a relief.

Oh shit Tony—

“Karen, where are we going?” he panic-whispered, pressing his StarkWatch to his ear to hear his AI’s response.

“I’ve checked the elevator’s request receipts, and it looks like you’re headed to the 90th floor,” Karen said in a tone far too kind for such horrible news.

Great. His entire class was headed to what was basically the Avengers’ living room. Peter hoped he hadn’t left anything embarrassing on the kitchen counter.

“Where are we going?” Cindy asked as the floor number on the wall hit 85.

David looked more than a little pale. “I don’t know. I—I’ve never been up this high. _No one’s_ been up this high.”

_“I_ have,” Peter grumbled. His life was so unfair.

“What was that?"

“Never mind.” 

Peter braced for impact as the doors opened.

Dun. Di di dun. Di di dun. Di du do di du do dun. Back In Back by AC/DC began to play throughout the common room. Of course it did, because this is Tony Stark we’re talking about here. The man was a big fan of the early Brian Johnson era. 

Getting out of the elevator required careful maneuvering. The group of teens (plus teachers) kept tripping over each other’s feet, and after a while Mr. Harrington gave up on saying “shh” every time someone cursed.

Once they’d had a chance to spread out, the music faded away and silence fell upon them as the visitors stood in awe of their surroundings. Rhodey, Sam, and Vision stood in a cluster a couple yards in front of them. The whole thing was so obviously posed that Peter wanted to laugh, but the pseudo-suave effect seemed to work on his friends. (Nat was sitting on the couch in full Black Widow attire, as was Pepper, who looked very tired and generally Done with Tony’s antics.)

Speaking of Tony, he was standing at the front of the little group, holding a giant neon-green poster board sign with the words WELCOME HOME PETER! written in massive bold letters.

The whole thing clashed terribly with the ten- to twenty-thousand dollar charcoal gray suit the man was wearing. If Peter had to guess, he’d say Tony had been trying to make the whole thing as tacky as possible, because Tony Stark was not the kind of man who would settle for a neon green sign unless he was trying to make a point. Laser-engraved steel with red and gold accents was more his style. But the green served to get the students’ attention just fine. 

“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmyGOD!”

“What the fu—”

“Shhh!”

“But Mr. Dell…”

“Peter knows _Tony Stark_ knows Peter ahhhhhhh what is going on!”

Tony cleared his throat. He’d dealt with impatient potential customers before, back in the days of tech and nuclear weaponry conglomerate SI. Peter would have thought even a bunch of high schoolers would know that they should shut up, but he thought wrong. The whispering continued.

Mr. Dell and Mr. Harrington looked mortified. Their students, the biggest STEM nerds in all of Midtown High, were finding it physically impossible to shut up even when standing in front of _literal billionaire Tony Stark._ It was any teacher’s worst nightmare, really.

“STUDENTS!” Mr. Harrington bellowed, rather red in the face. That shut them all up. In the awkward silence, he added, “Sir, I’m truly sorry for my students, they’re just a bit excited, you see, since we’ve discovered that Peter is quite the celebrity here and all…”

Tony grinned, effectively cutting off the science teacher’s rambling. “Don’t worry, teach,” he said, shooting Peter an exaggerated wink which made the girls standing around him swoon. (Ew. The man’s like 45. Or maybe Peter just sees him too much as a father figure to find him attractive.) “Just do me a favor and never call me ‘sir’ ever again. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” He smirked.

Mr. Harrington flushed. Stammering, he said, “Oh! Um, sorry si—Dr. Stark! Ah, eh…” 

“I’m just kidding. All I’m saying is there’s no need for all the formalities, you know? I just wanted to check in on my favorite person who’s not me: my dear Petey-pie.” Tony gulped. “Wait, second favorite! Don’t tell Pepper I said that!”

Pepper sighed. “Tony, I’m right here.”

The billionaire jumped. “Oh hey Peps, how was your day?” he asked nonchalantly, leaning on a rather disgruntled-looking Rhodey to feign suave-ness. 

Sam sighed and went to sit down on one of the kitchen barstools. Vision followed him, no doubt wondering why he'd let Tony drag them into this.

“Anyway!” Tony continued, clapping once to draw the class’ attention away from the sight of Samuel Wilson drinking a kale smoothie. “I just wanted to check on the kid because, you know, I want to make sure he’s having fun with his friends and all. Especially since _some_ of you,” he said, in a way that made it abundantly clear that he knew _exactly_ who he was talking about, “have been less than friendly to him regarding his internship. Oh, and teach?”

Mr. Harrington swallowed nervously. “Yes?”

“I’d like to speak with you privately after the students leave concerning my apparently ‘forged’ signatures on Peter’s school forms. As one of Peter’s legal guardians, I do think I should be allowed to sign for him, no? Oh, and I suppose Eugene Thompson should stick around as well. He—”

Flash looked overjoyed. “Thank you so much, Mr. Stark! I knew you’d come to your senses in the end. I’m glad you’ve finally realized that there are _much_ better internship candidates than Pet—”

“Aaaaaaaas I was saying,” Tony interrupted. “I think that you two, Peter, and I should have a nice little _chat_ about the astonishing lack of disciplinary action despite years of consistent bullying.”

Flash paled. “I...I...uh…”

“Yeah,” Tony concluded. “You know, if I had my way, Peter here—” he grabbed Peter’s arm, pulling him out of the swarm of kids to stand next to him— “wouldn’t even be bothering with the last few years of grade school. He’d be off to MIT, somewhere he’s actually _appreciated_. My kid is way too smart for all you los—mmph!”

Peter, in his violently embarrassed, red-faced desperation, had slapped his hand over the billionaire’s mouth. “Tony,” he groaned, “we’ve talked about this.”

The class watched, amazed by their usually-shy classmate’s sudden confidence. After a brief struggle, Tony ripped Peter’s hand off his face. He stared directly at Flash, who was probably beginning to regret even applying for Midtown High in the first place.

Tony grinned demeaningly. “And Eugene? It’s _Doctor_ Stark to you.”

Silence, save for the quiet terrified whispering of one (1) Flash Thompson.

Peter laughed awkwardly.

“So,” said Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. “Back to Stark Industries. Anyone got any questions?”

Every hand went up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed this, please let me know, it fuels my praise kink <3
> 
> if you want to suggest a prompt or a trope I should write next feel free to comment it or message me on tumblr @ pineapplepizzademon
> 
> ;)


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